


Love In An Elevator

by vic_amy_z



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vic_amy_z/pseuds/vic_amy_z
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike thinks that working for W&H is bad for Angel, and decides to send him a very explicit memo to that effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love In An Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> Just as I thought I could blow the dust of a few long-neglected WIPs, this rabid plot bunny sank its fangs into my ankle and refused to let go. And you can't ignore the bunnies…! The stimulus? There seem to have quite a few mentions in recent fics, of W&H's security systems. This is my take on how they might best be utilised…[g]

Spike was bored.

He lay on the bed in Angel's apartment above Wolfram & Hart, and drummed his heels on the mattress, staring restlessly at the ceiling and contemplating his life in LA to date.

Being non-corporeal had sucked, that much Spike was sure of. He thought of himself as a very physical creature, and not being able to touch anything had just about driven him insane with frustration. He hadn't even been able to touch *himself* without a great deal of concentration, and pretty much everything he'd wanted to do that involved touching himself tended to end in him being unable to count beyond two, much less being able to concentrate on the job in hand… so to speak.

In fact, the first thing he'd done when Fred had made him corporeal again was… well, the *first* thing he'd done had been Harmony, but a passing pot-plant would have sufficed, he'd been so desperate to get off. After that though, Spike had spent many hours tucked away in Angel's apartment, watching porn DVDs and basically wanking himself stupid!

But now he was bored. Not that he wasn't grateful to be able to interact with the world once again, but the initial thrill had worn off, and Spike was itching for something to do.

He switched on the television and channel surfed for a while, before sticking in one of the aforementioned DVDs that he'd managed to acquire through various means. Settling back onto some of Angel's poofy cushion, he started to watch two guys and a girl go through the obligatory motions.

Spike absently rubbed the front of his jeans as the seventeen seconds of plot passed and it got onto the good stuff. She did them. They did her. Then they did each other… Hmm, that was new. A fleeting thought of Angel snapped through Spike's subconscious, and suddenly he decided that he was bored already and stabbed angrily at the remote. The room returned to its former silence and Spike returned to drumming his heels irritably on the mattress.

And what was it with Angel? The guy spent every waking hour plus a few more besides working himself into an early pile of dust for an evil company that was once his archenemy. And did it make him any happier? Any less brooding? Any less of a tosser? Did it bollocks!

The fact that he even *cared* about Angel's well being only served to piss Spike off even more. 'Fuck! I can't even have a decent wank without that tosspot putting me off,' he fumed out loud. Especially as carrying on that particular activity *after* Angel had surfaced in his head would make it seem like he was getting off on the thought of his brooding sire, although this was a thought that Spike chose not to acknowledge.

Not that he didn't suspect Angel of being interested in *him* though. He'd seen the guy checking out his undeniably delicious self on more than one occasion, and it wasn't like there'd never been any of that sort of thing in the past - they were vampires for crying out loud. Yep, as far as Spike was concerned, Angel just needed to spend less time working, much less time brooding, and more time having fun. And if that involved appreciative glances at Spike's denim-clad arse, then who was he to complain. Damn, that man needed to get laid…

Considering the mental debate over, Spike rolled over and reached onto the floor for the stereo remote. Hitting 'play', he was treated to a blast of Aerosmith, a classic that had him tapping his fingers and singing along at the top of his voice. God! He loved rock music! It made him feel so… alive.

Newly energised, Spike decided that he'd had enough of just hanging around Angel's apartment and being bored. Swinging his legs off the bed, he went over to the elevator and jabbed the 'down' button, still humming to himself as he stepped inside and selected a previously unexplored floor of the immense Wolfram and Hart building.

~~~~~~~~

A good while later, having wandered several floors, he found himself in a corridor that was, well, just like every other corridor in the damn place; soft carpet, discreet lighting, chrome and glass. Fortunately it was already after sundown because, necro-tempered or not, such expanses of sunlight still unnerved Spike's demon. There were noticeably less people around on this floor, but Spike wasn't sure if that was because of its location, or because it was now outside of the office hours that some, if not all, of Wolfram & Hart's employees kept to.

He opened a couple of doors that led to empty offices, a couple that led to various store rooms. Then he came to one that was slightly ajar. Spike approached silently, not exactly sure what he might find on the other side, but knowing enough about the company to be damn sure that he didn't want to go surprising any occupants unnecessarily.

Hearing nothing that suggested imminent danger, Spike pushed the door further open and peered inside, revealing banks of monitors, machines and buttons that comprised the highest-tech security system that money could buy - in any dimension. His eyes scanned the rows of screens, and Spike found himself instantly transported into just about every room that the Wolfram & Hart building had to offer. There was Fred's lab, Wesley's office and Gunn's office; all empty. Conference rooms, corridors, elevators, and rooms that Spike couldn't even identify.

He quickly searched for the monitor that would show him Angel's office. Unsurprisingly, the great hair-gelled one was still poring over piles of paperwork. Spike rolled his eyes in disgust, but noted that the system's resolution was so good that he could practically read the print on the contracts that Angel was glued to.

And what was all this high-tech computer wizardry was manned by? A pack of flesh-eating demons? An eight-armed leviathan? No, a middle-aged night watchman, who was currently dozing under yesterday's newspaper. Spike would have laughed out loud if it wasn't so…

Wait! Something was tickling the inside of his brain. Random thoughts were trying to connect and tell him something: Watching DVDs… An elevator… Angel's brooding… Security cameras… Something about music… Spike could practically *feel* the neurons firing across his mental synapses.

Suddenly it all fell into place, and there it was: An idea!

No, not *just* an idea - a fucking fantastic idea! In fact, If Spike had been a cartoon character, a light bulb would have come on over his head! That's how fantastic an idea it was. He chuckled out loud at his own brilliance, which roused the sleeping watchman.

'Wha? Huh?' he groaned sleepily, folding the paper and stretching out in his chair. As he turned back to the monitors, he suddenly caught sight of Spike leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb and immediately snapped out of his reverie.

'Oh, Mr Spike. Didn't see you there for a minute, what with the whole 'you not reflecting' thing,' he gestured in front of him, 'otherwise, y'know, in the monitors, I would of… Anyway, what brings you up here?' the man tried to loosen his collar, fear coming off him in waves. 'There's not a problem is there? 'Cause, I swear, I only closed my eyes for a seconds, I've been up here all…'

'Take it easy,' Spike cut into the babble, fearing it could have gone on all night. 'I'm not here about work. Don't bother me none if you wanna have a nap. If I were you I'd get a mattress up here and do it properly.'

He grinned at the startled man in what he hoped was a companionable fashion, but the look on his face told Spike that it might have come out as more predatory that anything else. Not that it mattered; a healthy dose of fear would probably help to serve his purpose. He entered the room slowly, pulled up a chair and sat down next to the human, who, for his part, only backed away slightly.

'These monitors,' began the vampire, 'can you record from them? I mean, can you put what they're showing onto tape or something?'

'Sure, that's no problem at all. It's all backed up onto the computer anyway, but if you want a separate recording, you just pop a disc in here,' he indicated on one of the machines, 'press 'record' and away you go. Simple.'

'Brilliant! Now, I just need you to do me a small favour.' Spike employed the grin again, and the night watchman smiled back nervously.

~~~~~~~~

A half empty bottle of Jack Daniels was clutched tightly in his black-tipped fingers as Spike made his way back up to the security room. A bit of Dutch courage was definitely called for at this point. The room was now empty, the watchman having been paid with a fifty (stolen from Angel - the ponce would thank him in the end) to go for a 'coffee break' for twenty minutes.

Spike first made sure he had the right machine, then he turned on the sound feed that the man had been kind enough to show him, slipped in the disc and pressed 'record'. So far so good…

Pelting his way, slightly unsteadily, back down the corridor, he skidded to a halt outside the elevator doors and punched the 'call' button. A memorable guitar riff played in his head and he laughed out loud. As a bell 'ting-ed', signalling the elevator's arrival, he took a final swig of Jack, stuck the bottle behind a plant and stepped through the open doors.

Spike pushed the button marked 'G', and as the doors swished closed, he couldn't help but look up at the camera. He raised one eyebrow suggestively and said in a breathy voice, 'Second floor: hardware, children's ware, lady's lingerie. Oh, good morning Mr Angel. Going… down?' Then he cracked up, laughing helplessly at his own ridiculousness. Once the elevator was satisfactorily between floors, he hit the emergency stop button and it juddered to a halt.

Okay, now the fun really starts, he thought to himself.

'Hey, Peaches,' Spike addressed the camera once again. 'I know you'll watch this, 'cause your curiosity will get the better of you. I also know that you'll probably approach it like one of your endless cases, so if you *are* sitting there with Wesley or Lorne, now'd be the time to get rid of them… well, maybe not Lorne…' He smiled a moment at the thought of the camp green demon watching what he was about to do. Then he continued.

'Anyway, I'm doing this 'cause basically I know you better than anyone else ever has - or ever will, Angel. And just because you're my sire, doesn't mean that you always know best. So it's time for you to stop playing at being human, with your office and your paperwork, and get back to what you - *we* - do best. We're vampires, Pet, and you'd do well to remember that sometimes. But if you need reminding of what that really means to creatures like us, I'm here to give you a few pointers. I may not be so good with the words, but I sure as hell can *show* you what I mean…'

Summoning up every ounce of courage and daring that he'd ever had, Spike began by shrugging off his duster. The leather pooled around his feet and he kicked it carefully away into the opposite corner. Keeping eye contact with the camera, he untucked his tight, black t-shirt and began running his hands underneath it, feeling his skin begin to tingle in anticipation.

Then he moved one hand lower, ghosting the lightest of touches over his crotch. The feeling of contact, coupled with the knowledge that he was being watched, quickly began to arouse him, making his jeans noticeable tighter.

'Hey, I'm thinking about you here, Angel. Thinking about your hands on my body, touching me, rubbing me…'

Wrapping his arms sensuously around himself, Spike pulled the t-shirt up over his head and it joined his duster in the corner. Naked from the waist up, he knew that there was absolutely no going back now, so he might as well enjoy it. His hands slipped slowly across his chest, flat palms grazing sensitive nipples, making him draw in a sharp breath at the sensation as he imagined Angel's hands were there instead. The fingers of one hand pinched the deliciously swollen flesh, while the other snaked back down between his legs, rubbing the growing hardness until Spike was more turned on than he would have thought possible, given his location.

Propped in the back corner of the elevator, opposite the camera, Spike began to moan softly, his head dropping back to rest against the cool glass interior, as he continued his performance. He had hoped to draw the whole thing out and give Angel a really good show, but already he found himself reaching for the button fly of his jeans, desperate for friction against his painfully hard erection and wishing more than anything that Angel's hands were unbuttoning him then.

Remembering his audience once again, Spike stared up at the camera through lowered lashes, pouting slightly as he slowly, deliberately popped the buttons of his jeans.

One. By. One…

Already riding low on his hips, Spike's jeans slipped down further, exposing first more alabaster skin, then a thatch of dark curls, before they finally slithered to the floor. He kicked them too into the corner, taking his boots with them.

Then he was standing there, in the elevator, stark bollock naked. When Angel watched this, Spike just knew that he would be thinking 'no… he wouldn't…' and so he simply gazed into the camera lens and raised one eyebrow with a knowing grin that said 'yep, I would, and I am, so hang onto your hat, mate!'

Far from feeling self conscious about being in a stalled elevator wearing nothing but a smile and a hard-on, Spike found that the situation excited him more than anything. He began to run his hands over his body once again, his skin warmed by the whisky and intense arousal.

'Mmmm. You have no idea how great this feels, Angel. Wish you did. In fact I wish it was you doing this to me. Want to feel your hands around my cock… your mouth… your arse…' And what would surprise Spike the most when he came to reflect on his choice of words later, was the fact that he wasn't even lying.

Finally, when he couldn't take the self-induced teasing any more, he took hold of himself and began to stroke his shaft in long, slow movements, savouring every touch after such a protracted build up.

Despite doing this for the camera, Spike couldn't help but close his eyes in the bliss of self-pleasure. The familiar feelings of excitement and arousal continued to build inside him as he stroked himself, getting faster and harder as he neared completion. He was breathing hard now, desperate to hold on for as long as he could.

'Oh, yes! Oh, fuck, that feels good!' he whispered, not caring if it was loud enough to be heard or not.

Without thinking, he lifted one leg and placed it on the hand rail that ran around the inside of the elevator, supporting himself in his need to crumple to the floor in ecstasy and also giving the camera, and effectively, Angel, a view that was extremely erotic.

Before he could even attempt to hold back any longer, Spike's orgasm was upon him. He felt his entire being tense up as he gripped the rail with his free hand to prevent himself from falling to the ground, threw back his head and screamed out loud. He came hard and fast, shooting his load across the plush carpet and the opposite wall, stars buzzing around his head while he panted for unneeded breath, nerve endings throbbing in time with a long-forgotten pulse he no longer had.

He was fairly sure that he'd cried out Angel's name, too…

Not wanting to ruin the performance, he quickly managed to stand, albeit on shaky legs, gather his clothes into his arms and push the release button. The elevator jerked into motion once again. Spike couldn't bring himself to look at the camera at they point.

Reaching into the pocket of his duster, Spike pulled out a cigarette, his fingers still trembling. He managed to light it on the second attempt and blew out a plume of very satisfied and much needed smoke.

The elevator 'ting-ed' again at its ground floor destination. Without saying another word, Spike winked at the camera, blew Angel a kiss, and stepped boldly out into the lobby.

Sadly, the camera was not positioned to capture the crowd of irate, late-working Wolfram & Hart employees who'd been punching the elevator's buttons for the last ten minutes, but it was able to pick up Spike's exasperated voice declaring loudly, 'Hey! Naked vampire walking here, people!' as he audaciously strode his way past them…

~~~~~~~~

Angel staggered up to his apartment in the early hours of the morning; sore, dishevelled and more exhausted then he thought possible from a night of strenuous paperwork.

'Jees,' he muttered out loud, 'I've slaughtered demon armies that have taken less out of me than this job.'

He swept straight through his apartment to the bathroom, noting along the way, the many items of evidence that pointed to Spike having taken up residence there at some point during the last… Okay, Angel couldn't remember *how* long it'd been since he was last up here and he was far too tired to work it out. He was just praying that the bleached menace had got his ass out of the apartment already, 'cause Angel really wasn't in the mood to deal with him.

Stepping out of the shower fifteen minutes later, Angel felt almost human again… metaphorically speaking. A soft, dark green towel was wrapped around his waist as he rubbed at his hair with another. It was only then that he saw the note addressed to him in the curving, Victorian hand that his childe had never quite lost.

'From one demon to another. Watch first, then we'll talk. S. XXX'

Angel stood in the middle of his bedroom, turning the small disc over in his fingers, thoughtfully. What's the worst that could happen, he thought to himself. Then he shoved it decisively into the machine and pressed 'play'.

Twenty minutes later, after Angel's much-needed second shower, the vampire strode purposefully through the darkened corridors of Wolfram & Hart.

He was well aware that finding Spike was going to be the easy part. What he wanted to say to Spike, beyond 'thank you', was going to be a lot harder.

~~~~END~~~~


End file.
